


The One in St. Petersburg

by nerdlife4eva



Series: Paint Your Way to Me [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Humorous Ending, Love, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Injuries, Minor Original Character(s), Painting, Post-Canon, Some Humor, Victuuri Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdlife4eva/pseuds/nerdlife4eva
Summary: Welcome to the last installment of this series for theYuriOnIceReverseBigBang2017!!Yuuri experiences a fall (and mild non-specified injury) while training in St. Petersburg which brings his anxiety roaring back. Luckily, this time he has the remarkable love of not only Victor, but the entire Russian skating team. Each team member tries their hands at helping Victor help Yuuri, and in the end, Victor and Yuuri find something that can help them both.Original art here:Poot-Draws Amazing Art





	The One in St. Petersburg

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-canon (so all the canon events have occurred and apply) in St. Petersburg after Yuuri moves in with Victor. There are mentions of injury (although not graphic and unspecified) and both explicit mention of Yuuri’s anxiety, and mild implication of Victor’s depression. Because of who I am, there is still mounds of domestic fluff, unfaltering support, and never-ending love in this fic. I’m capping the series off with an absolute flood of the emotions that canon Victuuri has given me. 
> 
> Again, a huge, tremendous, bow-down-I’m-not-worthy, shout out to [poot-draws tumblr](http://poot-draws.tumblr.com/) or [pootdraws twitter](https://twitter.com/pootdraws) whose original sketches and final art inspired every second of these 3 fics. As an artist, there is so, so much talent, but Poot went above and beyond dealing with my ridiculous anxiety about posting these fics (and their unique structure and take on the big bang exercise). The best part about this whole thing was meeting Poot and I would love if everyone would go fan over the art and talent on both Twitter/Tumblr. Thank you, Poot, from the bottom of my heart, for letting me tackle this project with you. Your presence has been a blessing during this entire process!!

At some point in the months that Yuuri had been living with Victor, he had become convinced that he had learned to control his anxiety. The air around him felt less oppressive, laughter occurred more often than tears, and when he hurt the most he ran directly into his love’s open arms instead of hiding away to panic. There were still days that he needed more space, but Victor lovingly gave it to him, finding excuses to leave their shared apartment after wrapping a soft blanket over Yuuri’s shoulders and planting a gentle kiss to his head. It helped that Victor had learned to read Yuuri’s moods, often anticipating Yuuri’s needs before he could vocalize them. At first, this had been disconcerting, but Yuuri had slowly learned to appreciate how Victor had grown to understand him, finally realizing what a treasure it was to be loved so much.

For a while that love had brought about a decrease in Yuuri’s symptoms, no longer finding himself flinching away from the world every time a negative emotion presented itself. For a while, Yuuri felt like he was cured, like the world had somehow graced him with a reprieve from the anxious vibrations that had formed his entire life. For a while, Yuuri was convinced that with Victor by his side that he didn’t need anything else to cope with his sometimes crippling disorder.

Until the day that he fell so hard in practice that the trainers rushed the ice, Victor already on his knees beside Yuuri, light fingers running over his leg which was now bent at a strange angle. Yuuri was carried into the training room, head hanging in shame at his inability to support his own weight, feeling the familiar fog falling over his heart. The injury to his leg wasn’t serious, and with some mild physical therapy and reduced training, Yuuri would be back on the ice within a few weeks. The ramifications of the injury, however, were enough to completely turn his world upside down.

It started with nightmares. Yuuri would wake up, curled into Victor’s arms, after horrendous images of himself broken to pieces in the middle of the ice danced through his sleeping brain. They varied from realistic possibilities, like blown ACLs and broken ankles, to the more ridiculous possibilities, like trying to skate while slowly losing his limbs one at time. Each time, Victor was there to comfort him, but that didn’t change Yuuri’s hesitation to sleep. The reassurance of comfort couldn’t prevent his avoidance of falling prey to his own subconscious.

If he couldn’t sleep, he would game, falling back into old habits of staring into his computer screen until ungodly hours in the morning. While he gamed, he snacked, and his weight began to climb as his restricted training hours couldn’t burn an equal amount of calories to consumption. As the hours he slept lessened and the numbers on the scale increased, Yuuri found his anxiety hounding him, following him like grim reaper waiting for the opportunity to steal the rest of the light in his life. He had experienced the spiral so often that he knew exactly what was going on, but was completely useless to stop it.

Victor was concerned. He never argued with Yuuri at times like these, opting to skirt around the issues, only getting involved when he knew it wouldn’t result in a fight. Yuuri would snap at him, pull away from Victor’s touches more often than not, but Victor didn’t hold it against him. All of the research he had done online had given Victor a better understanding of the parameters of anxiety disorders and he was biding his time, waiting to intervene when he knew it would be well-received. While he waited, Victor quietly changed the world around Yuuri to help him without any recognition for the effort. Victor removed all the junk food from the house, taking the time to plate healthy snacks and stowing them in the fridge every night before he went to bed. He knew Yuuri would binge on whatever was easiest to get his hands on, so Victor made sure that high protein, well-balanced snacks were stacked invitingly in the middle of their fridge. Victor also purchased a pair of wireless headphones and a heavier sleeping mask, making it possible for him to sleep even if Yuuri stayed up screaming into some variation of a screen, raging against faceless online enemies. He switched their sheets to a higher thread count to feel softer on Yuuri’s skin and trained himself to wake without an alarm so that Yuuri could catch up on the sleep he missed at night without being disturbed. Victor had turned the floor of their apartment into proverbial egg shells and walked carefully through them each and every day.

* * *

 

During the second week of Yuuri’s downhill tumble, Mila slid a certificate for an at-home couples massage into the crook of Victor’s elbow while he watched Yuuri half-heartedly rehearse in the middle of the ice. He threw his arms around her, thanking her profusely for her thoughtfulness. Mila shrugged and reminded him that it wasn’t only Victor who loved Yuuri, and that they all missed the teasing tinkle of his laugh and the way he made Victor fall while practicing. She had performed her own goggling of Yuuri’s symptoms, hypothesizing that maybe a new activity would help break him from his funk. Grateful, Victor hugged her again, ignoring Yurio as he complained about their affections from the ice.

He scheduled the massage for their first off day, cleaning the apartment himself while Yuuri slept until after lunchtime. Victor was excited to spend an hour being pampered and happily chattered away with the masseurs as they set up their tables in Victor and Yuuri’s living room. Yuuri had watched the whole process over top of the sandwich Victor had made for him, mild interest sparking in his eyes. Desperate for any type of hope, Victor let Yuuri’s silent acceptance of their afternoon plans let the emotion bloom in his chest. Once the folded blue tables had been draped with sheets and the lights in their apartment were replaced with glowing candles, Victor snuggled himself onto the table, chest down, reaching a hand out to hold Yuuri’s on the adjoining table. A warm sensation spread through his chest at Yuuri’s shy smile, and Victor let his hope relax into his muscles, waiting for strong hands to take care of the rest.

Unfortunately, relaxation was not on the menu on that rainy Sunday morning. In his head Victor had imagined that the masseurs would massage them in sensual strokes making both himself and Yuuri feel wonderful and then leaving them to enjoy their relaxed state in private. In reality, the masseurs had massaged them like athletes, digging hard into their muscles making Yuuri yelp and Victor barely suppress tears. Victor bit into the edge of the blue plastic, begging for mercy from the sadist that seemed determined to smash his muscles into putty. His body felt as disheveled as an ill-folded fitted sheet, everything out of place and strangely lumpy, and Victor collapsed into bed to fall asleep covered in his sheets and his extreme regret.

Victor massaging his aching legs or feet at the end of the day was fairly close to heaven in Yuuri’s opinion; what had happened that afternoon in their living room being the exact opposite. A stranger had rubbed his oily hands all over Yuuri for an hour and all he wanted to do was skin himself and offer it up to Hannibal Lector. It had been the weirdest, most uncomfortable experience of his life and he spent the next few hours loudly destroying opponents in Halo 4 to rid his body of the lingering sensations. Sleep didn’t come for him until the sun had reached its early morning peak and Victor was already out of the door for practice.

* * *

 

When Georgi approached Victor after practice, pressing the information for a couples yoga class into his palm, he again found himself bear hugging one of his teammates. Mila’s idea had the best intentions, even if the execution was slightly off, and Victor was sure that Georgi’s idea would be the winner. Racing home, Victor burst into the apartment, excited to share the news of their newest adventure with Yuuri.

Yoga had always intrigued Yuuri, after a class he had taken with Phichit in Detroit. His back and legs were aching from spending so much time in his computer chair and he agreed to participate in the class, despite his still lingering regret from agreeing to the torturous massage. Dressing quietly in the same room as Victor, Yuuri found himself with the glimmer of excitement, softly smiling directly at Victor for the first time in days.

In his chest, his heart grew wings which fluttered rapidly at the sight of Yuuri’s smile. Oh how Victor had missed that smile. He was going to buy Georgi a very big present after this. Slipping into his shoes, Victor held out his hand, relief spreading through him like wildfire as Yuuri took it without hesitation. They walked the few short blocks to the yoga studio, both seemingly happier than when they left the apartment.

It was a large room, covered in light blue mats with a large wall of mirrors to one side. Music drummed loudly, much louder than any other yoga studio, and the windows to the right were covered in dark blue fabric. Arranged on mats throughout the room were other couples.

Other couples who were completely _nude_.

Yuuri noped the hell out, turning on his heel and fleeing from the studio faster than he had ever run in his life. Victor stood for a second, observing the class, wondering exactly who thought naked public yoga would be a good idea. When the instructor offered to be his partner, Victor jumped, spinning in several panicked circles attempting to locate the exit. Slamming through the door, Victor chased Yuuri down the street, plotting a way to strangle Georgi without leaving marks.

* * *

 

“Here, you idiot,” Yurio stood above Yuuri, dropping a plain brown bag into Yuuri’s lap, “don’t say I never did anything for you.” There wasn’t a snarl on Yurio’s face today, which was a plus, but the teen stomped toward the ice conveying his normal teenage outrage all the same. Yuuri continued to be bewildered by Yurio’s swinging moods, shaking his head as he turned the paper bag over in his hands. Flicking the folded top open, Yuuri retrieved a large book and a package of colored pencils, pausing in confusion to study the items.

The colored pencils came in a variety of forty-eight colors, by far the largest set Yuuri had ever seen. Phichit had a love for school supplies and their apartment in Detroit had been overrun with stationary, pens, pencils, and all sorts of drawing supplies. Despite that, Yuuri had never seen such a beautiful collection of colors and his fingers twitched over them eager to make use of each hue of the rainbow. Hesitantly setting them aside, Yuuri lifted the floppy book, peeking inside its page to reveal intricate line drawings of dogs and flowers. Curiosity leading the way, Yuuri flipped to the front cover, spotting childlike scribble on the first blank page.

_The internet says these help with the shit you go through, so here you go. Stay in the lines, asshole._

It was so snarky and caring all at once that Yuuri found himself snickering into his hands. If Yurio, the world’s most cynical teen, thought that an adult coloring book would help him, Yuuri was certainly not going to argue.

From across the rink, Yakov and Victor watched the exchange between the rink’s resident Yuris, smiling widely at Yurio when he joined them. “Don’t look at me like that,” Yurio spat in Victor’s direction.

“Oh and how am I looking at you, kitten?” Victor mused, eyes still on Yuuri who seemed to be entranced by his new belongings.

“Like you are going to hug me or some crap,” Yurio skated backwards a few feet, in case Victor decided to lunge in his direction. Relieved when no such approach came, Yurio sighed and returned to center ice to practice his jumps.

“Vitya,” Yakov’s eyes were not on Victor, focused instead across the ice at the one student who wasn’t his, “you love that boy?”

Victor nodded profusely, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak. There was another hint of a smile on Yuuri’s face and Victor couldn’t peel his eyes away from it.

“If that is true, you need to get him some help,” Yakov reached into his back pocket, offering a small white and blue card to Victor. “If he likes that book, you can try this.”

The card gave the details of an art therapy studio that was within walking distance from Victor’s shared home with Yuuri. Classes were offered for singles or couples and Victor already knew which they would be signing up for. Launching himself into Yakov’s arms to hug him into a thank you, Victor was relieved to get a small pat on his back in turn. Someday, Victor hoped Yuuri could understand how much he was loved by his new Russian family, settling in that moment for the smile that reflected across the ice as Yuuri moved with an increased sense of motivation.  

* * *

 

Yuuri hadn’t logged onto his Steam account in three days. His Xbox remained dormant, untouched for an entire week with its controls laying abandoned on the shelf above it. The aggressive desire to drown himself in fake blood and soccer-playing race cars had completely disappeared, replaced by his intense desire to fill every page of his coloring book with bright colors. It was mind-numbingly peaceful to sit in the window seat, sun beaming in through the glass to warm him as he carefully picked which colors to apply to each blank sliver. Progressing through each picture was pain-staking. The need to perfectly apply his pencil to each chosen location driving him to focus all of his attention on the page in front of him. There was no room for circular thoughts as he worked through the picture of tiny jumping poodles, Makkachin curled at his feet, and the afternoon sun gracing his face. His mind settled, concentrating only on his current task and nothing else.

Standing in the kitchen preparing dinner, Victor paused in his chopping of vegetables to adoringly watch over his fiancé. Yuuri looked so small and young sitting curled up in the corner of the window, the setting sun highlighting the lighter streaks in his hair and providing a rich glow to Yuuri’s face. His beauty was irresistible in that moment, and Victor slid his phone from his pocket, silently clicking a picture. Uploading it to Instagram, knowing Yuuri would never see it, Victor was excited to see how many people agreed with his assessment of Yuuri’s beauty.

It wasn’t until a fan spotted the cover of Yuuri’s book that the really interesting conversations took over. Victor found himself fascinated as comments poured in, all of them sharing their experiences with the adult coloring books and most of them celebrating Yuuri’s self-awareness. There had been a lot of positivity and love on Victor’s Instagram, especially since he had started dating Yuuri, but none had ever been as inspiring as the conversation going on now. User after user supported each other, spurring a conversation about anxiety, depression and other disorders and how it affected them all differently. Victor’s heart ached, wanting desperately to tell Yuuri how a single picture of him had made a difference, but he knew there would be no point. Someday, when the storm rolled out and Yuuri was more receptive, Victor hoped he could share the positive commentary with him.

Lost in a world of color, Yuuri felt the fog slipping away, the calm clarity in his mind breaking through the emotional hurricane that had been violently pounding him for weeks. It hadn’t been his longest spell, but it had certainly been the longest one since he had met Victor. Three days into his consistent time spent with his present from Yurio and Yuuri was beginning to see the light again. As he applied his favorite shade of blue, one that remarkably resembled his favorite pair of eyes, Yuuri felt the yearning to be touched slowly seeping back into his skin. It had been weeks since he had been properly affectionate with Victor, and although he still felt prickly and oversensitive, he began to feel the pull again. Replacing his pencil in its box, Yuuri carefully stacked it together with his book, prepared to temporarily abandon it on the window seat. Unfurrowing his legs, Yuuri stood, moving cautiously into the kitchen. Acting before he could think not to, Yuuri slipped his arms around Victor’s waist, resting his cheek on Victor’s back.

It spoke silent sonnets about how much Victor loved Yuuri that he was able to restrain himself from throwing himself into Yuuri’s embrace. Slipping his hand over Yuuri’s arms on his waist, Victor hummed happily, concentrating hard on his cooking to keep himself from tackling Yuuri with a fierce need to touch. Victor didn’t dare to speak, worried that he would accidentally say the wrong thing and send Yuuri running from him.

The flex of Victor’s back muscles against Yuuri’s chest made his cheeks flush. His Victor. His patient, loving Victor who gave him space but never gave up on him. Yuuri knew he was lucky, even when he was too much of a butthead to realize it. Rubbing his nose on Victor’s back, he left a few stray kisses across the broad shoulders.

Death by Zamboni would have been less torturous than Victor trying to hold back his level of emotion. His body craved to be touched, and having Yuuri wrapped around him was easing the tension that had built over the last dragging days. “Love,” Victor practically whispered, relieved when Yuuri didn’t have an adverse reaction to the pet name, “you like that book Yurio got you?” He felt the nod against his back, letting it urge him on. “Would you consider taking a painting class? There is a place down the street from here.” He paused listening for any signs that he was testing his luck. Yuuri’s breathing remained even, his arms still firmly wrapped around Victor’s waist. “We could go together. It might be good for me too, you know, to have a hobby beyond harassing you and Makkachin and for all my… stuff.” It was more difficult to address Victor’s own issues, but he was working on it.

Yuuri chuckled, shaking his head into Victor’s back and chasing the path with kisses. “That sounds fun. If you schedule it, I’ll try it. Deal?” He placed one last kiss on Victor’s cheek, moving back to his place at the window.

Fingers glancing the place still moist from Yuuri’s kiss, Victor found himself barely able to squeak out the word “deal.” Yuuri had laughed. Yuuri had laughed and held him. Yuuri had laughed, and held him, and kissed his cheek. For the first time in over two weeks, Victor’s smile reached all the way up to his eyes.

* * *

 

The paint studio was brightly lit, an open room decorated with extravagantly colored scarves, splashes of paint on the walls, and half-finished designs on canvas. Scattered in a rough circle were easels, supplies stacked next to each one waiting for the artists to manipulate them into something beautiful. In the middle of the room stood a woman, almost as colorful as her surroundings. Her hair was a beautiful rainbow, pulled high above her head in a messy bun which had multiple paintbrushes protruding from the folds. Her smock was covered in rough paints of various animated characters, and Yuuri was able to identify quite a few of them before Victor elbowed him for staring. Shuffling toward them, Yuuri smiled at the woman’s paint covered crocs and baggy denim jeans. It was a wonder that Victor didn’t drag them from the place immediately, given the woman’s welcoming but disheveled appearance.

“Hello!” her voice was warm like tea laced with honey, making Yuuri’s shoulders instantly relax. “I’m Barb! Welcome to Healing Strokes,” she waved her arms around the room.

Yuuri snorted. He couldn’t help it, clamping his hand over his mouth, cheeks burning as he glanced at Victor. His very mature fiancé pumped his fist back and forth making a crude gesture that made Yuuri snort louder. Every part of him caught flames as the calm hazel eyes of their instructor returned to him.

“I accept any and all jokes about the name of my studio,” Barb walked toward a set of easels, indicating with a joyful wave that they should sit. “If your joke is clever, I’ll give you a discount on your next class.” Impish grin on her face, Barb moved away from them to greet the next couple entering the room.

He tended to instantly like most people, but Victor **_loved_** Barb. Something about her reminded him of Yuuri’s mother, in combination with his own, with a hint of Mila and Mari’s crudeness thrown in. As far as Victor could tell, Barb was about the closest he had ever seen to a perfect woman. Except the crocs, those he could do without.

Settling himself on his stool, Yuuri ran his fingers over the brand new supplies sitting next to him. Like with his present from Yurio, Yuuri couldn’t wait to take control of the multi-colored paints, itching to create with his imagination, instead of using it as a weapon of mass destruction against his own insanity. As he listened to Barb’s instructions, Yuuri felt peace wash over him, knowing almost immediately that no one in the room would judge him. He could paint on the canvas with his bare ass and Barb would probably give him a gold star. It was an amazing feeling, the comfort of safety and relaxation blanketed Yuuri as he took his paint brush in hand, preparing to tackle the design of the large bowl of fruit sitting in the middle of their circle.

Victor supposed he should at least attempt to paint the array of apples and bananas, although all he really wanted to do was continue to observe the lax look on Yuuri’s face and bask in the shy smiles that he had missed so much. Pulling his focus away, Victor reached for his paint brush, ready to spend the next hour painting a lifeless bowl of produce.

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“You are a mess, Vitya,” Yuuri purred, the scent of wine on his tongue as they walked the last few blocks to their apartment. Thirty minutes into the lesson, Barb had poured each of the students a glass of wine, declaring that the couples’ class was a more relaxed environment and they should all partake if they desired to and felt comfortable with it. Yuuri had taken full advantage of the offer. Now, he clung heavily to Victor, breath coming directly at Victor’s neck as he desperately guided them both home. “You have paint here,” Yuuri touched his cheeks with a chaste fingertip, “and here,” Yuuri flicked his collarbone. “I hope you don’t have paint here,” Yuuri brushed his fingers over the front of Victor’s pants making him jump.

“Alright, my Yuuri, one step at a time,” Victor sucked in his breath as Yuuri squeezed his butt, “we need to get home first. This isn’t an appropriate activity for the middle of the sidewalk.”

“Healing strokes,” Yuuri snorted, oblivious to his own randomness, “I got us a discount, didn’t I?”

Victor’s cheeks burned as he increased his hold on Yuuri’s waist. As soon as the wine had been poured, Yuuri’s tongue had become a little looser. While Victor was sure that most of the class hadn’t heard Yuuri’s lewd jokes, he was well aware of the fact that Barb had, as she had offered them each fifty percent off of their next class. He had been thoroughly embarrassed, the emotion only yielding when Yuuri had leaned over to kiss him, giggling against his lips and making Victor’s head swirl. His Yuuri was happy, a combination of painting and wine bringing Yuuri back to the surface.

Stumbling into their apartment, Yuuri turned on Victor, pushing him back against the door to slam it closed. As his buzzed fiancé began to assault his body with affection, Victor decided Barb was going to be getting a very big thank you present the next day.

* * *

 

Two weeks of paint classes and a little over a month since Yuuri’s injury, Victor watched as his skater transitioned into his final jump. Landing the quad flip that Victor had told him not to do, Yuuri shot a cocky glance over his shoulder, winking when Victor scolded him. Nothing Victor said was permeating the stubborn brain of Yuuri Katsuki, and as he watched Yuuri fly across the ice, Victor realized he couldn’t care less. His skater was back, his fiancé had returned to the world of the living, and Victor’s whole world felt right again.

The familiar demons rose in Yuuri’s chest, fighting for a position against the champions of his courage. Imagining tiny Victors running through his body with tiny swords to fight away these anxious villains helped Yuuri breath. It was only his first day back to full training and he didn’t need to push himself. Except for the quad flip, that was for Victor’s sake, a silent FU to the restrictions his coach had tried to instill. The slight hint of pain had been worth it to watch the subtle shock pass over Victor’s face. Being back on the ice in full force held a certain level of fear, but it was nothing compared to his time off of it. Flexing his arms to his sides, he threw himself into a spread eagle, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of flying.

* * *

 

“Hello?” Yuuri called into the seemingly empty art studio, peering around for his instructor. When the rainbow hair poked from behind a shelf, he smiled and waved as Barb climbed from her crouch.

“Yuuri!” She hugged him, as he had given her permission to do during their last lesson, “What can I do for you?” Barb had the type of spirit that drew people to her; it reminded Yuuri of Victor which only increased how much he enjoyed being around her.

Shyness returning, Yuuri shuffled his feet looking much younger than his years. “Well, I…” he blushed, clearing his throat to try again, “I was hoping you could help me with something?” Peeking up from under his eyelashes, he couldn’t help but smile at the warm grin aimed at the top of his bashful head.

“For you, Yuuri?” Barb threw an arm around his shoulders, shaking him, “anything!”

* * *

 

Victor’s absolute least favorite days were practice days when Yuuri was not present in the rink. It hadn’t bothered him nearly as much prior to Yuuri’s injury, but after the struggles of the last few weeks, Victor found himself distracted and worried whenever he left Yuuri’s side. Yakov had been surprisingly patient with this predicament, allowing Yuuri to sit against the wall with headphones in during Victor’s private ice time. Today, however, Yuuri had declared his need to be elsewhere, leaving Victor to ponder how much worrying a person could do before it caused his hair to fall out. He had forced himself to adhere to all of Yakov’s directions, pleasing his coach and allowing him to escape practice on time. Relief began to crash on him in waves as he approached the apartment door, eager to finally have an evening off to enjoy with his love.

The lock clicked open on the door and Yuuri jumped in excitement. Nervous fingers twitched over the set up in the living room, his left foot kicking out to flatten the corner of the drop cloth that he had spread on the floor. It wasn’t Barb’s studio, but he felt like his set up was decently impressive and he spun on his heels to smile at his beautiful fiancé coming through the door.

The first thing Victor noticed was Yuuri’s smile, it was so real and bright that it nearly knocked Victor off of his feet with its intensity. The second thing he noticed was the objects he didn’t recognize taking up the majority of their living room. Smile slowly spreading, Victor moved toward Yuuri to encircle his waist with his arms. “What’s all this?” Victor ran his nose lightly over Yuuri’s cheek as he talked, feeling his heart flutter at the happy hum it elicited.

“It’s…” Yuuri became temporary distracted by the closeness of Victor’s lips, ceasing his explanation to engage them in a kiss. Breaking away, Yuuri twisted to look at the two easels sitting back to back on top of a blue drop cloth. Stools were positioned in front of each of them, a tray of paints placed equidistant between the easels so they could be shared. Pinned to the top of each easel was an envelope and propped on a small table opposite of the paints was a bottle of wine and two glasses. Lips tweaking into a proud smile, Yuuri returned his gaze to Victor’s face, placing a gentle palm against his cheek. “It’s a thank you. For standing by me,” Yuuri swallowed the emotion rising in his throat, “for not giving up on me. For not criticizing me. For protecting me.” He punctuated each sentence with a kiss to Victor’s cheeks, stepping back to push Victor onto a stool. “I don’t know what the pictures are. Phichit helped with that. He apparently conned the guy at the store to put them in separate envelopes.” Sitting at his own stool, Yuuri cautiously removed the envelope from his easel, slipping a finger under the seal. “I didn’t peek. Maybe next time we can paint next to each other, but this time, I thought this would add to the surprise.” A small squeak escaped him as he came face to face with a picture of Victor lounging on a large pillow, mostly naked while displaying a bowl of katsudon.

 _Bless Phichit_ , Victor thought, clutching the picture of Yuuri, wearing nothing but his awful blue tie around his head, a white shirt falling off his bare shoulders to pool at his waist. He wasn’t sure if he could paint while battling a hard on, but Victor was definitely going to try. Noticing the pink on Yuuri’s cheeks, Victor tried to look over his easel to spy the other picture. He threw a pout in Yuuri’s direction when Yuuri yanked it against his chest. “You won’t show me?” Victor batted his eyelashes, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He liked the pink increasing to red on Yuuri’s cheeks.

Raising an eyebrow, Yuuri gradually dropped his gaze to Victor’s lap, “yours is showing just a bit.” He burst out laughing when Victor attempted to cross his legs over his partial erection, dumping himself off of the stool and onto the floor. Yuuri waited until Victor had resituated himself, tapping his paint brush on his cheek. “Ok now?” He laughed as Victor grumbled, dipping his paint brush and focusing his concentration on his canvas.

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The sun had long since set and the wine had disappeared when they had finally completed their individual works of art. Tipsy, Victor stashed his painting behind the dining room table, giving Yuuri a chance to rearrange the easels so they could reveal their work to each other. Footing fairly unstable, Victor made his way back to the couch, winking at Yuuri as he sat. His fiancé blushed with a combination of wine and embarrassment as he raised his canvas to the easel. Victor’s face flushed red when he saw the painting of his own mostly naked body, cheekily modeling a bowl of katsudon. That picture had seemed like a great idea when he and Yuuri had been drunk and alone at the onsen. Now, it seemed a little ridiculous painted on an oversized canvas. Yuuri’s head was buried in his hands, little snickers sneaking out between his fingers. Standing, Victor approached the painting to study it. “My abs are very detailed, honey,” his chortle increased as Yuuri collapsed in hysterical laughter.

“Wait, stay there,” Yuuri laughed, grabbing his phone from the table, “say katsudon!” He aimed his phone at Victor.

Pointing a singular finger gun at his own portrait, Victor yelled, “ab-a-licious!” making himself and Yuuri dissolve into tipsy giggles. “Alright! Alright! My turn!” Victor excitedly skipped back to his hidden painting, returning the easel to present it with a flourish.

Yuuri died. Sinking flat on the couch, he swore he was going to murder Phichit. He should have expected something like this, but the picture was one from his drunken college days, and he could have done without ever seeing it again. Victor looked so proud of his work though, and Yuuri snapped another picture knowing he would never let Victor post it anywhere. Safely stowing his phone on the side table, he let Victor haul him to his feet to pose him next to the picture. One hand supporting his belly sore from laughter and the other cradling his bright red face, Yuuri smiled at Victor as he took too many rapid fire pictures. Finally satisfied, Victor waved Yuuri toward him, patting the couch.

Sinking against Victor, Yuuri curled into the most wonderful person he had ever met. He knew now that even if life got the best of him, Victor would always be there, loving him and trying to understand, every step of the way. He never thought it possible to love Victor more than he already did, but he was starting to think their love was an exponentially growing force. Resting his head on Victor’s shoulder, Yuuri sighed, content and amused as his eyes reviewed their latest work.

Makkachin wandered into the room, finally interested in whatever chaos his dads were causing. Walking directly to the canvases, his tail stopped wagging as he inspected the art, a small growl ripping through him.

“He doesn’t like our work!” Victor pouted, throwing himself over Yuuri’s lap.

Laughing, finally feeling completely relaxed and happy, Yuuri patted Victor on the head. “You always said he had very good taste. Perhaps we won’t change professions any time soon.” Feeling his love join in his laughter, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor’s torso, happy to spend the rest of the night thanking his beautiful fiancé in every way he could think of.

**Author's Note:**

> And huge, loving hugs to my beta who constantly reassures me when I freak out about posting (anything... really how she still likes me is mystery). THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HELPING ME SURVIVE THIS PROCESS AND HELPING ME PUT MY BEST "FOOT" FORWARD!
> 
> Best beta in the business:  
> [FullMetalKarneval13](https://fullmetalkarneval13.tumblr.com)


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